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THEY CALLED ME BROTHER

Pink rosey cheeks covered in soot

We were 10
We were 11
We were 12

We were educated by each other; not by books

We were hungry
We were tired
We wanted the warmth and comfort of our mother’s arms

We wanted to roll down the hill in the grass,
and eat plums and carrots

That was many years ago

When I take down the shoebox from the hall closet and come to this picture
All I remember is

We were 10
We were 11
We were 12

tired

hungry

and wanting our mothers

We were 10
We were 11
We were 12

And our mothers

were

gone

This poem is in the revision stage.  Feel free to make comments and suggestions.

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